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[Illustration:  FRIGHTFULNESS ON THE ALLOTMENTS.]

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THE HARDSHIPS OF BILLETS.

Jim and me could never ’ave got through the six weeks we was billeted with Mrs. Sweedle if we ’adn’t been ’ardened by Mrs. Larkins in the way I ’ave described.

Mrs. Sweedle were a widow woman with a big family, besides a aged father and a brother who suffered with fits.  The billetin’ orficer was afraid she wouldn’t he able to take us in, but Mrs. Sweedle was willin’ and eager.

“Bless their hearts, that I will,” she said; “it shall never be said I turned a soldier from my door.  Nobody knows better than I do what soldiers is in an ’ouse.  Always merry and bright and ready to put their ’ands to anything when a poor woman’s work’s never done and she’s delicate and liable to the sick-’eadache in the mornin’s.  There’s the week’s clothes to go through the wringer, but I know what soldiers is for a wringer; they can’t leave it alone.  And if I ’appens to overlay meself I know there’s no cause to worry about Grandfer’s cup o’ tea, nor yet Bobby and Tom and Albert gettin’ off to school tidy.  Like as not they’ll do me more credit than if I washed ’em meself; there’s nobody like a soldier for puttin’ a polish on children.”

Mrs. Sweedle overlaid herself the very first mornin’, and sent word by Albert if we would be so kind as make her a cup o’ tea when we was makin’ Grandfer’s it might save her a doctor; and the wood for the fire was out in the yard, and she knew, bein’ soldiers, we should chop her a barrer-load while we was about it; and when she crawled downstairs presently the breakfast things would be washed and put away, as was the ’abit of soldiers, and very likely the pertaters peeled for dinner.

It bein’ a strange ‘ouse and we not knowin’ where to put our ’ands on anythin’, and, when we’d got the kettle to boil, not bein’ able to let it out of our sight owin’ to the youngest little Sweedle wantin’ to drink out of the spout, Jim and me was regler drove.  We was as near late for parade as we ’ave ever been in our lives.  Mrs. Sweedle was very upset.  “I know what soldiers is for punctuality,” she said, “a minute late and they’re court-martialled.  How would it be if you was to lay the fire over-night and scrub over the floor?  It ‘ud save ye a lot in the mornin’, if so be I’m forced to keep me bed.”

We done as she advised, and it were fortunate.  She ’ad another sick-’eadache the next day, and sent word by Albert would we be so good as bake her a mouthful of toast; she knew what soldiers’ toast was like, it give ye a appetite to look at it, thin and crisp, with the butter laid on smooth as cream and cut in fingers.

We never run no risk after that.  ’Owever dog-tired we was and ’owever Mrs. Sweedle seemed in ’ealth we always got the work forward over-night, and when we could catch ’old of Bobby and Tom and Albert we washed ’em to save time in the mornin’ and parted their ’air.